What Comes Next
by RZZMG
Summary: Albus Severus Potter is about to meet his namesake, Severus Snape, in a manner most unexpected... What comes next when you've come to the end of your life? Is it something to fear or something to accept, and what happens if you run from your fate? 2012 NextGenDarkFest pinch-hit entry. Drama/Angst. One-Shot. COMPLETE!


**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**This was my 2012 NextGenDarkFest (nextgendarkfest . livejournal . com) pinch-hit submission. The fest is over and reveals are out, so now I can post this for you here. ****This fanfic is finished (it's a short one-shot). **

**Here was the prompt that I worked from: **_#53 - Pairing(s)/Character(s): Albus Severus/ Severus Snape; Prompt: Anything! I just want to see what you can make these two do._

**Much thanks to Ladysashi, who beta'd this piece for me. Thank you to the NextGenDarkFest mod for running this wonderful fest!**

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**DISCLAIMER:**"Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfiction was written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**TIMELINE:** Post-Hogwarts, Epilogue compliant (2026).

**MAIN CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name):** Albus Severus Potter, Severus Snape

**SUMMARY:** Albus Severus Potter is about to meet his namesake in the most unexpected manner...

**RATING: **PG-13

**WARNINGS:** Main character death, Medical descriptions of physical trauma from a potion's explosion

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**_WHAT COMES NEXT_**

**BY RZZMG**

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Albus hears his mother softly crying, and knows that even without his sight that his steadfast father is comforting her. Her muffled sobs are the only sound in the quiet that surrounds him.

He wishes he could let her know that he's aware of her suffering, and that he's sorry for putting her through this.

"Inoperable?" he hears his dad ask, his voice thick with agony.

There is a shifting of fabric at his side, indicating the presence of a person. "I'm sorry," the stranger says, "but the explosion caused simply too much damage. His ocular region is irreparable, his Mandible has been completely pulverized by the blast, his larynx is crushed, and the perforation in his stomach and intestines has caused a secondary infection that his body is too weak to fight. Those injuries alone are enough, but combined with the haemorrhaging intracranial injury... Well, we've been able to stabilize him the best we can. The most we can do now is to make him comfortable."

His mother's sobbing grows louder.

"How long?" Jamie asks in a small voice. He sounds to be standing near the foot of the bed.

There is an uncomfortable pause.

"Hours, maybe a day or two at most."

Ginevra Weasley falls completely apart then, wailing her denial. Albus' father is shushing her. "Jamie, Lily," he calls for help, and there is a shifting in the air currents as bodies move quickly towards the opposite end of the room.

"My baby," his mum screams. "Oh, my God, no! Not my boy!"

Her sobbing grows fainter, as if it is coming to him from down a long tunnel, and it's suddenly hard for Al to breathe through the guilt. If only he hadn't been so risky in the lab. If only he'd listened to his co-worker, and more closely followed the safety protocols for untried Muggle substance testing. If only...

It's regret for aught now, he knows.

His lungs feel constricted, and it seems impossible to force air through them. He tries to open his mouth to ask for help, but he is restrained from doing so by some sort of wrapping over his face.

Seconds stretch into eternity, and the blackness he floats in absorbs him completely once more, swamping his mind until reality slips away.

**.**

He is awakened by the stranger in his hospital room, and perhaps because he is hovering on death's door, he instinctively knows that he is in the presence of a spirit of some kind.

It's not a ghost, for he knows how they feel brushing against his magical aura from his school days. It is impossible not to recognize that chilling sense of sorrow that accompanies one who does not accept The Reaper's calling.

It's not a poltergeist, either, for he knows all too well how the touch from a creature of Chaos burns one's essence. He'd had that unpleasant sensation forced upon him when he'd gone back to Hogwarts just last year to study Peeves as part of his Unspeakable training.

No, this is an 'other' - one of those beings whose presence he's felt calling to him through The Arch in the Death Chamber back at his work. There is a decided... thinness... to it that marks it as a Shade: a soul hovering on the brink of the Veil, passed over, but unwilling to go further and be reborn.

_Who are you? _he projects, wondering if it can hear him.

He feels its attention shift from his father, who sits at his side, to him.

_I feel you_, he tells it.

There is a breathless moment. A pause that lasts too long, before it finally responds.

_Interesting._

Albus is confused by the cryptic reply. _What is?_

The weight of the Shade's assessment of him feels like a weight settled across his chest, heavy and constricting.

_You look like your father._

There is a marked distaste in the stranger's tone. Al takes no offence. People have been saying he was the spitting image of Harry Potter at the same age since he was born. _I know_, he states the obvious. _I have his hair and face._

_And your grandmother's eyes._

That gives him pause. _How do you know that?_

_I hear you're named for me_, the Shade dodges the question, his icy tone almost sneering. _I find that marvellously ironic, really._

Al is awe-struck at the implication. He knows everything about his namesakes, their heroics legendary. And somehow, he knows exactly who it is talking to him just then. _You're him, aren't you? You're THE Severus Snape, the Dark Hero of the war._

He can feel the Shade's mocking amusement. _'Dark Hero'? Charming. I see your father's ridiculously noble influence has made its mark upon reputation._

_What are you doing here? _Albus asks, sure he must be dreaming while in his coma-like state.

The Shade seems uncomfortable with the question, but he answers nonetheless. _I made a promise long ago to your grandmother that I would ever look out for her family._

_Oh_, is all Albus can think to say to that. He pauses to consider his next words, choosing them carefully. _Are you here to cheer me while I heal?_

Severus Snape does not reply.

_I see_, Al says, understanding the inference in the silence. He is suddenly very afraid. _How long?_

_Soon_, his namesake tells him in an oddly gentle tone. _Very soon now._

There is no more as Albus loses consciousness again.

**.**

A train whistle sounds in the distance.

Albus blinks, and then twice again as an unexpected radiance bursts to life around him, dispelling the darkness and stinging his eyes. It is bright after living in the abyss for so long. It takes several long seconds for him to adjust. When he is, at last, able to peel back his lids without pain, he rubs away the tears that blur his vision, and blinks once more to take in his surroundings.

King's Cross Station.

Except this isn't the train depot he's always known. Everything is eerily achromatic, utterly still, and deathly silent. There are no passengers, no trains, no bags or trunks, no clamouring voices or rushed movement. No porter calls out his services, and no conductor announces the time. He is alone in a world of white angles, black lines, and grey curves.

"Hello?" he calls out, turning around and around, seeking the comfort of the living. "Is anyone there? Hello?"

Panic seizes him.

The train whistle blows again, and this time, it sounds closer.

Cupping his hands over his mouth, he is about to shout out again, hoping for a response this time, when the clomp-clonk of firm heels against stone bring him up short. The footsteps echo to him from further down the platform, over his left shoulder. He turns about, squints into the distance, and watches as an indistinct, black blur far off down the way slowly becomes the distinct shape of a tall man as it advances.

"Um, I wondered if you know where we are. It seems I'm lost," he calls out to the stranger.

"Calm down, Mister Potter," returns a familiar, haughty voice. "You are quite safe, I assure you."

Albus draws in a sharp breath. "Mister Snape?" he asks in a small, croaking voice as the wizard in question stops an arm's distance away and stares down at him with dark, fathomless eyes. He feels awed to be in the presence of this great man... and terrified. With his thin, sallow looks and his long, black robes, Severus Snape looks to be the harbinger of death in Al's opinion.

"Indeed," the man affirms, giving a small nod of his head. "And you-" His gaze takes in Al from head to toe, lingering for a moment at the mop of black, messy hair on his head, at his almond-shaped green eyes, and at his shoes. "-are definitely a Potter."

"Yes, sir," Albus nods, relieved not to be alone in the alien landscape. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. But, sir, if you don't mind me asking..." He glances around. "Where are we? And how can you be here? Not to be indelicate, but, you're dead, sir."

Severus Snape rolls his eyes and his voice is slathered with sarcasm when he replies, "Adroit, Potter. Yes, I am most definitely and disappointingly deceased." He makes a small gesture with his hand to indicate their surroundings. "And this is the end of the world of the living."

Albus spins around, taking it all in. Yes, this definitely seems like the kind of place that exists between life and death. "You mean, limbo."

"Yes, limbo," his companion affirms. "Now, the questions remains, Mister Potter: where do you intend to go next?"

Lifting his head, Al's gaze meets the sharp, black stare of his namesake. "You mean, I have a choice?"

Snape gathers his long, sable robes around his middle, crossing an arm over his chest, and sneers down at him with impatience. "Of course, fool boy! Everyone has a choice."

In the distance, far down the tunnel, there glows a different sort of illumination that is soothing in its brilliance. It is from that direction that the train whistle blows again. This time, it is much, much closer.

Al has ever been the brightest of his three siblings, scoring perfect "O's" on all of his O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. It is therefore a simple leap of logic for him to understand what comes next. He shivers with the knowledge, trying to hold onto his bravado. He may not have been sorted a Gryffindor in school, but he hails from their stock. "I heard the Healer back in my hospital room tell my family that I'm inoperable. I'm going to die no matter what. That means you're not here to encourage me to fight for life, but rather to counsel me on what will happen to my soul once my death finally occurs."

He can hear the note of pride in Severus' voice when he says, "Astute, and wholly correct. But then, I would expect no less from one of my own House."

Al chews his bottom lip, contemplating the next few minutes of his existence. "Basically, if I don't catch this in-coming train, I'll end up a ghost like The Bloody Baron, yeah?"

"Yes."

Albus takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out, accepting his doom. He's always been something of a fatalist about death, yet at the same time, a closet romantic about the cyclical nature of life. In his heart of hearts, he believes it very likely that he had made this same trip in the past at some point, and would do so again in the future. That gives him hope that he will someday see his family again.

"I don't think I'd like that for my afterlife," he decides with a firm nod of his head. "No choice for me, then. But, what about you?" he asks, hearing the train pulling into the station with a mighty chuff of its engine.

Severus Snape looks down at him, meets his eye, and gives him a small, sad smile. "I will ever be here to assure your family finds its way. I promised." He lifts a hand and places it fondly on Al's shoulder. "Good journey, Mister Potter."

Al reaches up and places his hand over his namesake's and returns the fond farewell. "Goodbye, Mister Snape. Thank you."

He boards the train and takes a window seat in a carriage that reminds him very much of the one he'd taken upon his first trip to Hogwarts. As the mighty engine roars to life and the whistle gives a loud blast in departure, Al raises a hand and waves it at Severus Snape, thankful for the man's presence here at the end. He thinks that if he'd truly been alone on the platform, the outcome of this final decision might have been very different.

He watches as the dark form grows fainter as the distance stretches between them, its hand upraised in a final goodbye, and when he can see it no more, Albus Severus Potter turns to face the front, and waits for what comes next.

_**~FIN~**_


End file.
